


Olimbos

by i_gaze_at_scully



Series: Movie night [13]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully
Summary: Huge thank you to @how-i-met-your-mulder on tumblr for simultaneously wallowing in the woes of writing with me and propping me up. Couldn’t have finished this one without her.





	Olimbos

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to @how-i-met-your-mulder on tumblr for simultaneously wallowing in the woes of writing with me and propping me up. Couldn’t have finished this one without her.

_And in this final act of destruction a chance to give what he could not receive._

—

It felt like a dream. The kind he used to have after she was abducted, the kind he had when Samantha was taken. The powerless, helpless kind where he’s running through plasma at a snail’s pace, a blood-curdling scream stifled in the airless vacuum around him as it clawed its way out of his lungs. He walked through the door of his apartment and saw her lying there covered in blood, and he couldn’t even open his mouth to scream. He couldn’t run to her, he couldn’t take out his phone to dial 9-1-1, all he could do was stare, moved more by impulse than his own two feet. He knelt over her, fingers hovering, and she wasn’t breathing.

_She wasn’t breathing._

When she gasped, the dreamworld vanished the way a bubble pops. Her hands, stiff with fear like the claws of the dead, drew him in and he scooped her into his arms. Her blood was still warm on his chest and her fingers searched for better purchase on his back. She needed him closer, and if he could meld their bodies into one he would do it in a heartbeat.

A heartbeat. Her heart still beat, inside her chest. He felt it. He felt it beating and anchored himself to it. She wretched a sob, uncontained and confused, strangled and uneven. She sobbed and he clutched her as tight as he could. He murmured assurances into her neck, her hair, her cheek.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m right here.”

He leaned back, arms still hooked around her, and pulled her into his lap. He dug her fingers into his hair and he smoothed hers down, rubbing slow circles on her back.

“Mulder,” she croaked, voice dry from screaming. “Mulder he wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t die, I emptied my clip into his chest and, and–” she buried her face in his neck, wracked with sobs again.

“Scully.” It’s all he could say, and he said it over and over. “Scully, Scully, Scully.”

  
In the basement, an unfortunate tenant of Mulder’s building screamed.

—

The paramedics came to check her out when they finally broke apart and made the call. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. The blood that caked her shirt came from no wound. Her untorn flesh bore no scar. They treated her for shock and placed her in Mulder’s care for the evening. His whole damn apartment building was a crime scene, so he stayed the night at her place. He curled behind her in her bed, her hair wet from her second shower, and held her as tight as he had when he found her. She let him.

The next morning, she rises early and put coffee on. She looks at herself in the bathroom mirror and hears Padgett’s words echoing, louder than the echo of her own screams the night before. _Agent Scully is already in love_.

Last week she had stood in Mulder’s hallway, the confessional that it was, and listened to him utter words she’d been unable to utter herself. She went home and stared at a wall till the sun came up, trying desperately to part the muddied waters to get to the bottom of her feelings, only to dredge up more debris in the process. Eventually, sleep took her and she took a personal day. She would deal with it tomorrow, she’d told herself.

She could’ve cut the tension in their office with a knife the next day. They didn’t speak beyond what was necessary and she felt the weight of his stare like a wool coat across her shoulders all day. He gave her the space she’d asked for though; he didn’t call, didn’t push. He went through three bags of sunflower seeds a day the rest of the week, and then the Padgett case came up.

Mulder loathed Padgett. She could tell. She saw the hurt in his eyes when he busted into Padgett’s apartment to find her there, and how it deepened when she defended herself. She heard the hope and desperation for validation mingling in his voice when he asked her, in so many words, if she’d slept with Padgett. He loathed Padgett for tugging the line as Scully walked the tightrope, and she understood.

She pours two cups of coffee and returns to the bedroom. She ignores her hunger to attend to the more prevalent desire to be there when Mulder wakes up. Sitting on the edge of the bed near his legs, she places his coffee on the nightstand and watches for a moment as he comes to consciousness.

“Something smells good,” he says lazily, propping himself up on one elbow. She sips her coffee and nods over to his. “Wow, five-star treatment here at chez Scully. Breakfast in bed and everything.”

“Coffee’s not breakfast, Mulder,” she muses.

“Says who?” She knows what he’s doing. She knows the frivolous chatter he uses as white noise to drown out the dark peeking out from behind every door. He’s got a joke and a smile waiting after every crisis.

“If you want real food, I can run to the bagel place around the corner,” she offers. He shakes his head and taps her knee, motioning for her to let him out of bed.

“I’ve gotta run home, actually. After everything that happened yesterday…” he starts, and she grips the mug with two hands hoping the warmth will stave off her shiver. “Well they asked me for a statement but I told them… I told them I’d give it to them this morning. They’re going to meet me back at the apartment.”

She nods. She watches him don his coat and knows this strategy too. The darkness can’t catch him if he’s always running.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, taking one more big gulp as he heads for the door.

“Thanks for staying,” she says quietly into her mug. His back is to her and he stops. He turns back and all the weight of the last 24 hours finally shows on his face.

“Hey, can I swing by later maybe? I still have your Disney movie and the wine at my place. Unless they’re taking it for evidence.” He throws a small smile her way and she catches it. “I know… I know you wanted some time–”

“Come back later,” she interrupts decisively. He darts his tongue across his lower lip before sucking it in, nods, and leaves.

She’s been through worse, she knows. There was something unique to be said about the searing pain of hands digging through her flesh, _into_ the tissue of her muscle. She could feel his fingers scrape against the bones of her ribcage, and the agony fused with a bewilderment that only intensified her pain.

It wasn’t the pain that lingered though, it was the irony. _Agent Scully is already in love_. She nearly lost her heart because it belonged to Mulder. And the most ridiculous part, she thinks, is that Mulder still doesn’t know. After their conversation in the hallway last week, after all they’ve been through, she still hasn’t let him in. She still hasn’t given him the heart that is already his. She resolves herself to try again.

—

He comes back around dinner time with his hands full: _Hercules_ , two bottles of wine, and takeout.

“I picked out some rules,” he greets her, lumbering inside. She brings glasses down from the cupboard.

“You’ve seen Hercules, Mulder?” He finds the drawer where she keeps the corkscrew and pops the bottle as she starts opening the takeout cartons. “I didn’t peg you for a Disney fan.”

“Nope, never seen it. But they’re all the same, I don’t need to.” It’s amazing how fluidly they move around each other, setting up for the night like they’ve been doing it all their lives.

“Oh yeah? Hit me.” Not even a sip of wine and she already feels her muscles relaxing.

“Rule number one: drink every time a character breaks into song.” He gives her jazz hands and she smiles into her glass.

“Good thing we have two bottles.”

“Rule number two: drink every time there’s a hidden sex joke.” She concedes with an eye roll and his eyebrows wiggle preposterously. 

“Rule number three: finish your drink when they fall in love at first sight.” The VCR hums in the background, loud in Scully’s ears now, and she decides then that it was time to fast forward. She takes a gulp of wine.

“Ah, the Disney classic princess trope. You’ll be pleased to know the story goes a little differently this time.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, leaning back into her couch.

“Yes. Actually, the love interest is initially a spy.”

“Is she now?”

“Mhm,” Scully murmurs, taking another generous sip. “She’s not supposed to fall in love with Hercules, but she does.”

It’s quiet then as both Mulder and Scully and the very room hold their breath. Scully puts her wine glass down and turns to face Mulder head on.

“She does,” she repeats with all the gravitas due. “Mulder–”

The VCR clicks and previews suddenly fill the room. Mulder huffs and switches the TV off. “No more interruptions,” he declares, eyes trained on Scully’s.

“Mulder,” she continues. “I stand by what I said in your hallway.”

“I do too,” he says, and she nods her head.

“I know. As of late, I’ve given a lot of thought to the place you occupy in my life. And if I’m being honest with myself, and now with you, that place has grown and shifted in astounding ways.” There’s raw emotion in her voice and she feels a wonderful bubble build in her core and make its way out in her words. “I’m scared of what we stand to lose, but I’ve concluded that it’s more than worth all we have to gain.”

Like he has been waiting his whole life for this moment, Mulder closes the gap between them and takes her face in his hands with a profound reverence. When his lips touch hers, there’s no taste of life and death, no desperation. Only the latent sweetness of blooming as the sun melts the snow they had buried themselves in. Her words fly out the window and she smiles into the kiss.

“Yeah, that,” she muses when they break apart.

“I’m all in, Scully.” After last night, last week, and the culmination of nearly seven years of building an unfathomable connection, she believes.

“All in,” she agrees. The weight of their words lifts a weight off her shoulders and she kisses him again, moving her lips to the tune of their new symphony.

For the first time in a while, they actually watch the whole movie. They make it through a little over a bottle of wine, enabling a tone deaf Mulder to sing quite vigorously and Scully to laugh at him unabashedly. The credits roll and they crawl into bed peacefully, living and loving in full.

_“In the morning there is meaning, in the evening there is feeling.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The first line is from Padgett’s voiceover at the end of Milagro. The last line is a quote from Gertrude Stein’s poem, Food. Here’s a relevant snippet.
> 
> “In the evening there is feeling. In feeling anything is resting, in feeling anything is mounting, in feeling there is resignation, in feeling there is recognition, in feeling there is recurrence and entirely mistaken there is pinching.“


End file.
